


Sandy Swift and Her* Flying Lab

by lirin



Category: Tom Swift Jr Series - Victor Appleton II
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 10:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20469659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/pseuds/lirin
Summary: * Well technically, it's her brother's, but he's gone and gotten himself kidnapped, so if she doesn't use the Lab to save the day, who will?





	Sandy Swift and Her* Flying Lab

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hhertzof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhertzof/gifts).

The observation room at Fearing Island was full of activity—every phone line was in use, electronic maps were projected on the walls, and every security officer who could be spared was bustling around looking busy—but Sandy Swift wasn't involved in any of it. She sat in the corner of the room with her arms crossed. If only Mom and Dad hadn't left for the mainland, taking Harlan Ames with them and leaving Robertson in charge. Ames would have been willing to tell her what was going on, instead of glaring at her and Phyl from across the room for daring to set foot in here. As if she would want to be anywhere else, not knowing what was going on, while Tom and Bud were missing.

"Come on," she told Phyl finally, as Robertson's glares continued and it was clear no information would be forthcoming. "Let's go play tennis or something." She led the way out into the island sunshine. 

"I hope you weren't literally thinking of playing tennis," Phyl commented after a minute, as they walked side by side down the path towards the main airfield (and the tennis courts and baseball field beyond). "I'm worrying too hard to have any fun."

"I'm too worried too," Sandy explained, "but I wanted anyone who overheard us leaving to have an idea where we were going. A wrong idea."

"So where are we going?" Phyl asked.

"Right there," Sandy declared, pointing towards the main hangar. "We're staging a rescue."

"That's the best news I've heard all day," Phyl proclaimed. "But how are we going to find the boys, if nobody else has?"

"Simple," Sandy insisted. "We're going to get closer to where they disappeared, and then we're going to look for their plane. And yes, I know that we already have people doing that. But none of them have used the Flying Lab to do it."

"I didn't know you knew how to fly the Lab!" Phyl exclaimed. "That's a great idea!"

Sandy grinned. "Well, technically, I've never done it before. But I've seen all the specs. And Tom always says it's so easy to fly, it practically flies itself." She slid open the side door of the hangar, and the two girls slipped inside. "And even more important, do you remember that radio spectrum analyzer Dad and Tom invented over dinner a couple months ago? They went ahead and had a prototype produced, and Tom mentioned last week that it's been installed on the Lab."

"I remember it all too well," Phyl recollected. "Shall I try to operate it, or are you planning to try to fly the plane with one hand and analyze radio spectra with the other?"

"See what you can do with it, and if you get stuck, I'll engage autopilot and give you a hand," Sandy proposed, then stopped abruptly, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Shh, I think there's someone inside! Maybe it's Tom and Bud's kidnappers, come back to cause more trouble! What do we do?"

Phyl gasped. "There are some toolboxes and spare parts over there by the wall," she pointed out. "Let's find something to arm ourselves with before we go any further."

The two girls commandeered a socket wrench and a piece of pipe, then headed for the entrance of the Lab. "We'll take them by surprise," Sandy whispered. "If we go back and report it, they'll have too much time to get away."

"And there'll be no way to sneak the Flying Lab out of here once Robertson stations security all around it," Phyl added. "On the count of three?"

Sandy nodded. "One, two, THREE!" The girls burst through the Lab's entry hatch, waving their makeshift weapons. There were two men on the lower deck, sneaking around with the lights off so they were barely visible. "Hands up!" Sandy yelled as they rushed forward.

"Brand my fried and frittered cactus, Sandy, it's me!"

Sandy stopped abruptly. "Chow? Who's that with you?"

"Hank Sterling," the other man identified himself. "We were thinking of taking the Lab up to look for Tom and Bud. The security team's doing everything they can, but I'm not sure it's enough. I imagine you had the same idea?"

"We did indeed," Sandy replied, finding a light switch at last and flipping it on. "You're welcome to accompany us, but I'm piloting."

Hank winced. "With your brother and Bud already gone missing, I'm not sure I can allow you to put yourself in danger—"

"We'll be in the stratosphere in a huge atomic-powered plane," Sandy said calmly. "I can't think of anywhere safer."

Hank didn't argue further, and Sandy led the way up the narrow stairs to the main deck and the control room.

"Do you know where the radio spectrum analyzer is?" Phyl asked. "Or do I just need to start searching?"

"Oh, good idea," Hank said enthusiastically. "It's in the physics lab, mid-fuselage. Do you think we can use it to detect Tom and Bud's plane?"

"That's the idea," Phyl told him. "From the way Tom and Mr. Swift were talking about it the day they invented it, it can do just about anything! Sandy and Mrs. Swift and I got a crash course in how it works just by being there at dinner, because they certainly weren't about to talk about anything else. They came up with the idea over salad, hashed out the design and specifications over stroganoff, and by the time Mrs. Swift brought out the cheesecake, there was nowhere to put the plates that wasn't on top of a blueprint. I haven't exactly tried to remember how it works since then, but I hope I can remember enough to get it to work."

"In retrospect, that explains the state of the blueprints when they reached my division," Hank said wryly. "Was it blueberry cheesecake?"

Phyl grinned. "It absolutely was. For the record, I definitely didn't spill any. It tasted too good to waste!"

"But as it is," Hank continued, "I did work on the construction of the spectrum analyzer, so I can help with it if you want."

"You can decide that once we're in the air," Sandy broke in. "We're wasting precious time." She sat down in the pilot's seat. "Let's get this show on the road."

* * *

Minutes later, the Atlantic was far below them, Fearing Tower had finally stopped squawking about how they really needed to turn around and come back immediately, and Hank and Phyl had the radio spectrum analyzer mostly put together—apparently, Tom had been in the middle of tinkering with it, because he'd left it dismantled all over a workbench.

It didn't matter much, yet. They wouldn't be able to detect a signal from the boys' plane until they were much closer. If there was even a signal to detect, of course. If the plane had been fully shut down and all of its electronics turned off, there would be nothing to find. But if their meeting had been a trap, as seemed nearly certain by now, and if Tom and Bud had been taken unawares as soon as their plane landed—then perhaps the electronics would still be on and detectable. If they could even figure out where the boys were.

As advertised, the Lab almost flew itself; Sandy was able to spare most of her attention for a further investigation of the control panels. Never having had a chance to fly it before, she wasn't certain what some of the cryptically-labeled controls did, but she thought she could make an educated guess. A dial labeled "fission" seemed likely to increase the rate of fission in the reactor, which would provide more power to the propulsion system and thus more speed. Sandy eyed the dial. As much as she wanted to hurry more and more and get to Tom and Bud as soon as possible, she didn't know as much as she would like to about atomic power. And besides, if she got to the point where they had gone missing before Phyl and Hank had the spectrum analyzer put back together, she'd just be stuck flying in circles. Better not to chance it.

"Well brand my cowboy hat," Chow said brightly as he entered the control room. "You look like you might've been flying this plane your whole life. Nobody would guess this was your first time!"

"I would hope so," Sandy said archly. "The plans for it were left out on our kitchen table enough that I certainly ought to know a bit about how it works. How's the spectrum analyzer coming along?"

"Well, I don't know a thing about what they're doing, but Phyl and Hank seem pretty happy. It's still in more than one piece, though, so it's not ready for you yet."

"Well, we're not even to the coast yet, so they've got time," Sandy remarked. "Do you know how the atomic reactor on this ship works?"

Chow shook his head. "I don't know anything about atomics. All I know is, if they put it in a plane, then it really goes!"

Sandy frowned. "Unfortunately, that's about the size of my knowledge, too, and I'm really regretting not studying more about them now."

"You can find a book on it when you get home," Chow suggested. "Or maybe ask your dad."

"I plan to," Sandy informed him. "Unfortunately, that knowledge won't come in time to help me fly the _Sky Queen_ now, so I can only hope that our current speed is enough."

Chow eyed the speed gauge warily. "Brand my butter knife, you're certainly going fast enough for my tastes! Any faster, and we'll have smoke coming out of our ears!"

Sandy smiled. "Would you please go find out how much longer till Hank and Phyl will have the spectrum analyzer ready? We're getting close."

* * *

As it happened, Hank and Phyl were just reconnecting the last wire as Sandy brought the Lab over the last known location of Tom and Bud's plane, so it wouldn't have done any good for her to have been able to fly there faster. Hank came up to the cockpit and sat down in the copilot's seat. "Phyl's ready and waiting for you," he reported. Sandy nodded, and set course for a slowly widening spiral over their target.

She sat quietly for a while, checking one gauge after another and wondering how Phyl was doing down below. She was glad Hank hadn't tried to insist on being the one to fly the _Sky Queen _even though he had more experience. Sandy felt helpless enough, being so far away when her brother was probably a prisoner of who-knew-what. If she had been stuck in the copilot's seat with nothing to do but wring her hands, she didn't think she could have stood it.

In the copilot's seat, Hank Sterling was not wringing his hands, but he didn't look happy. "How far from the initial site are you checking?" he asked.

"As far as we need to," Sandy resolved. "I'll keep spiraling until either we detect a signal or we run out of food—or of fuel, but with the Lab's capabilities I suspect the former would happen first."

"It probably would," Hank concurred. "Though let's hope it doesn't take nearly that long to find them."

It appeared that it would indeed not take that long, for at that moment they heard a yell from below. "Phyl!" Sandy exclaimed. "She's found them!"

Hank jumped up and ran below. Sandy paused only a moment to set the autopilot, then followed him. Phyl was standing at the lab bench, gazing at the radio spectrum analyzer with a tired smile on her face. "I've detected a likely signal," she said breathlessly. "I can't say for sure if it's the right one, but it looks right."

"I'll take her down slowly," Sandy announced. "When we're at a thousand feet, we'll be able to narrow in on the exact location more precisely."

From cruising altitude, all Sandy knew was that they were above a forest in eastern New York. But by the time they reduced altitude and, with Phyl's guidance, homed in on the signal from the boys' plane, they were able to determine the lay of the land more precisely. Hank operated the _Sky Queen_'s powerful radar and detected a clearing in the woods, large enough for a small dirt landing strip. "It looks barely big enough for the _Pigeon Special_," he informed her, "and you know they don't take much room to land as small planes go."

"But the Lab takes even less," Sandy said firmly. "Any ideas for a plan of attack?"

Hank scratched his head. "I was thinking that you could land the Lab for just long enough for Chow and I to get out, then take off again to a height of about twenty feet. Chow and I will take some hand repelatrons and rush them. They'll have us outnumbered, but they don't have repelatrons. After that, hopefully Tom and Bud are able to let us know where they are, and maybe they'll already be working on escaping from wherever they are. If they even realize that we're there to rescue them. We'll have to yell as much as we can, and hopefully they'll recognize our voices."

"You're thinking too small," Sandy averred. "Why settle for hand repelatrons when we can really let everybody know we're here?" With a grin, she reached for the controls.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, it turned out that having the Flying Lab drop out of the sky directly onto one's hidden evil base (that was now a half-smashed evil base thanks to the Lab's high-power jet lifters) was enough to scare most enemies into surrendering, and Tom and Bud's kidnappers were smart enough to give up without much of a fight. Chow and Hank took the aforementioned hand repelatrons and rounded up the miscreants, while Phyl—who didn't want to be the only person without a task, now that the spectrum analyzer's job was complete—took another repelatron and went looking for the boys. Sandy longed to go with her, but she didn't really feel like downgrading her weaponry to just a hand repelatron when she was currently manning the biggest weapon they had. So she sat at the controls and kept the Lab hovering just above the base—low enough to instantly drop and retrieve any of her passengers, but high enough that none of their enemies could board.

Phyl returned with Tom and Bud within ten minutes. "They already had half of the window bars removed," she reported, in the midst of hugs all round. "They would have gotten themselves out by nightfall."

"And then we would have been in the middle of a forest with no idea where to go from here," Tom added. "Where are we, anyway?"

Sandy grinned. "Ooh, I know something you don't know! But didn't you fly here?"

Tom shook his head. "We landed at the field that we had originally been directed to, but then we were knocked out and woke up in that cell."

"They must have just brought you here in the same plane you started out in, to allay suspicion," Sandy deduced. She realized that she was still sitting in the pilot's seat. "Do you want to take over?"

Tom shook his head. "I've been knocked on the head, dragged all over, and then beat myself up trying to get those bars out when it turns out I didn't even need to," he chuckled. "I'd much rather have a nap. And from what I can see, you certainly don't need the help."

"No, I don't think I do," Sandy said happily. "I'm going to have to get myself one of these planes."

Tom grinned wryly. "When we get home, I'll help you build one. That is, if you even need my help!" He headed for the staircase to the third deck, where the lounge and sleeping quarters were, and Bud and Phyl followed him.

Sandy leaned back in her seat. She liked the feeling of sitting here. But she didn't think she was going to ask Tom to help her build a copy of the Flying Lab after all. She'd ask him for the blueprints, and then she'd build a different plane, inspired by the Lab but designed all by herself. Maybe she'd like sitting in the pilot's chair of _that_ plane even better.

The state police had finally shown up and taken over custody of Tom and Bud's erstwhile captors. Hank and Chow had climbed back on board and had closed the hatch behind them. There was no reason to stick around any longer. So Sandy gave a burst of power to the jet lifters, and soon the Flying Lab was soaring across the sky once again.


End file.
